


i want your midnights (i will hold on to you)

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Exes, F/F, Fluff, New Year's Eve, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca and Chloe are distant friends—but still friends—after their attempt at dating fizzles out after a few short months. A few years later, they reconnect by chance at a New Year’s Eve party.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 42
Kudos: 292





	i want your midnights (i will hold on to you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hrmdream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrmdream/gifts), [Notsoawesomenerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notsoawesomenerd/gifts), [aca_bhlo_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aca_bhlo_me/gifts).



> I feel like this year was hard and honestly most years are a lot harder than we ever let ourselves acknowledge...but sometimes you make some new friends along the way and they make your life that much better. Thanks for everything. ❤️ This is for you guys but also to everybody who helped make this year not so shitty!
> 
> Fic title from “New Year’s Day” by Taylor Swift. **[Gifset here](https://beca-mitchell.tumblr.com/post/638930064013197312/i-want-your-midnights-i-will-hold-on-to-you)**.
> 
> Unbeta'd...apologies.

_please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere_

* * *

Beca inhales as she steps out of her apartment building. Something about the sharp, cold air in New York makes her feel like all her cells are alight with motivation. Inspiration. Newness. It had been like this when she first tried to jump-start her life with Amy and Chloe.

Chloe.

She and Chloe tried to make it work. They really did. The distance made it difficult, but they made it through a few short, blissful months before deciding mutually to call it quits. Beca still remembers the look on Chloe’s face as they sat together in a cafe. The weather was disarmingly wonderful and people bustled around them like they were part of a separate plane of existence—a happier one, of course. Maybe even a plane of existence where Beca and Chloe were still... _Beca-and-Chloe._

Of course, Chloe being Chloe wouldn’t leave Los Angeles that weekend without a near-handwritten contract from Beca promising that they’d be in touch. That they’d remain friends. That nothing huge would change.

Beca had agreed, though Beca privately thought it rather silly to pretend like nothing had changed considering she now knew what Chloe’s lips felt like against her own. But those were just details.

(And—fine. If Beca’s being honest, their whirlwind romance—and perhaps even the entirety of their friendship—is littered with details. All the finest, most minuscule details that they could muster between them. Like all the stardust in the celestial universe, boiled down into their turbulent friendship and subsequent attempt at romance. The details, really, were what made Chloe so unforgettable in Beca’s eyes; in Beca’s heart.)

The details, while they kept Chloe and Beca in touch through the years, meant that the distance between them grew and expanded until three years had passed since their break-up and Beca found herself moving back to the very city where she had fully realized how in-love with Chloe she was.

New York. Where everybody made up parts of the city; where everybody were parts of the whole, but not wholly put together themselves. It happened, sure, but it was rare.

 _Quite fitting_ , Beca thinks.

* * * * *

In the few short months that Beca has been living in New York, she has re-acclimitized herself with the city and all its sights and sounds. It’s different, recording an album in New York, but she feels like she has the entire breadth of the city’s millions of inhabitants to draw from. THere is something incredibly vibrant about living there—something incredibly comforting about being known and ignored all at once. Beca appreciates the anonymity. It’s kind of charming, how nobody gives a fuck about her, barely batting an eye when she jostles past crowds in a Trader Joe’s or when she flips off paparazzi.

She is also grateful for the friendships. Working with new music execs is a daunting task, but she appreciates all the resources that come her way. One of her new (and surprisingly close) friends, Jake, ends up inviting her to a New Year’s Eve party at his apartment. It’s then that Beca realizes she has been living in New York for a _while_ and somehow it’s already the end of the year. Again.

She agrees to attend the party with hopes that it will take her mind off the lingering doubts that fill her mind with useless noise. She unfortunately hates that Jake has promised to set her up with somebody he thinks she’d like. It’s not that she _isn’t_ looking...it’s more like, well, the lingering pain of breaking up with Chloe all those years ago kind of left her with a Chloe-sized hole in her chest and she doesn’t really feel like sealing that wound entirely just yet.

It’s a good kind of hurt, but it smarts when people prod at it. Only Beca is allowed to make her own heart hurt.

It’s what she keeps at the forefront of her mind when she greets Jake with a hug in his apartment.

“Beca, you actually came!”

Beca wrinkles her nose at her friend. “I came for the drinks. I don’t want you to set me up again,” Beca gets out quickly before Jake can say anything further. She has appreciated her friend’s attempts at getting her into a relationship (he isn’t the only friend to do so—Amy is a repeat offender), but she kind of just wants to have a quiet end-of-year. Nothing huge.

Jake pouts at her, bless his heart. “I think you’ll really like her.” He tilts his head towards his kitchen where Beca can hear the sound of clinking glasses. “Come on. She’s Molly’s vet and she’s honestly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.”

Beca scowls, turning slowly towards where Jake is urging her to look, but she just won’t give him the satisfaction yet. “You say that about everybody. You said that about _me_. Fuck yo—”

She turns her head fully and she is looking right at Chloe Beale.

A strange buzzing fills her ears as she takes in the sight of Chloe standing right in front of her, a few feet away. A slew of expletives float through her mind but she can’t quite unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She feels...elation at the sight of Chloe standing before her. They had exchanged sparse texts over the past couple of months, but Beca had known that she and Chloe would eventually cross paths in New York.

By the time Beca manages to fully find her voice and regain her hearing, she is vaguely aware of Jake calling her name, but she can’t stop herself from tracking her eyes up and down Chloe’s figure as she continues to lay out cutlery and plates on an already-overcrowded table. She glances up then, eyes catching Beca’s wandering gaze with a degree of mischief shining in them, like she had overheard everything. Beca tries to force her face into a smile, but Chloe beats her to it, smiling with her mouth and her eyes, lighting up at the sight of Beca.

“Beca, was it?” she asks, voice cutting across the very soft music.

Beca gapes at her, loving the sound of Chloe’s voice saying her name once more. She shakes herself out of her stupor and turns back to Jake. “I’m going to take that drink now, thank you.”

Beca knows she’s made a mistake when she sees the glint in her friend’s eyes. “Well, Chloe can cover you, can’t she?”

Chloe sidles over, two glasses of something fizzy in her hand. “Something bubbly, Beca Mitchell?”

Jake grins. “Beca, this is Chloe.”

Beca sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She is so far from annoyed and she can tell Chloe knows this based on the shit-eating grin on her face. “We know each other. We...we’re friends. From school.”

“And we dated already,” Chloe chimes in when it’s clear Beca isn’t about to be forthcoming about that information. She looks pleased with herself when she says it.

Jake looks supremely disappointed by this information. “Beca, what the fuck? Is there somebody you _haven’t_ dated?”

Chloe turns surprised eyes onto her. “Oh? Is Beca quite the serial dater?” She sips at her drink, appraising Beca from head to toe with a very-not-innocent gaze. “I would never have known.”

“I’m...I’m not…” Beca groans and takes her drink, chugging it in its entirety. She presses the empty glass into Jake’s chest. “Go get me another one,” she commands, eyes still fixed on Chloe. Without waiting to see whether he listens, Beca focuses all her energy on staring at Chloe. “You’re here.”

“Being a vet really makes my world surprisingly small.” Chloe holds out her arms. “Hug?”

Beca scoffs, but sinks into Chloe’s arms, headbutting Chloe in the shoulder. She gives the moment one brief second of silence before she exhales noisily. “What are the chances?”

“So you’ve dated a lot of people? Tell me about that.”

Beca kind of hates how easily Chloe says that, like her chest isn’t about to cave in with the weight of the jealousy resting on it at the thought of Beca dating other people.

Totally unfair.

“Always to the point.” Beca can’t quite explain why her stomach twists and starts doing funny things (she _can_ explain, but that’s besides the point) when Chloe simply tilts her head and waits for Beca to continue. “No,” she concedes. “But my world gets a little lonely from time to time. What about you? You’re asking people to set you up now?”

If Chloe picks up on how hastily Beca asks that, she says nothing. “No, honestly. I mentioned off-handedly that I was single one time when he came into my office, then again mentioned that I wouldn’t be opposed to be meeting somebody nice.” Chloe pretends to wrinkle her nose. “So I don’t know why he thought to set me up with you.”

“I am...very nice,” Beca mutters unconvincingly.

Chloe laughs. “I know you’re a giant teddy bear, Bec. You don’t have to pretend with me. You sang acapella. For four years. You just have awards and money now.”

Beca softens, feeling all kinds of familiar affection and love rise up in her. “I never had to pretend with you.”

Chloe shuffles closer ever so slightly. “I know. I never had to pretend with you, too.”

Beca doesn’t _hate_ the way Chloe fits into her space so easily. It’s nice.

* * * * *

As the party picks up and as the night goes on, Beca finds herself gravitating towards Chloe more and more. Beca decides to suck up her pride, ignore every single annoyingly pleased look Jake shoots her, and spend time with the one person that she cares about more than anybody else. Chloe is thankfully receptive to that idea and Beca realizes that her feelings for her ex-girlfriend (ex-almost, ex-something, maybe not an ex at all) never left entirely. Even after years. She tries to tell herself that it is because they are comfortable with each other already and that this is what _friends_ do. This is how _friends_ act. Comfortable. Pretty much all over each other. Touching casually. It's all so damn easy, especially since Beca finds herself sitting next to Chloe on a cozy little loveseat like they have nowhere else to be and nobody else to talk to.

(It is, of course, the product of being in love with the same person for so long that it became an ingrained feeling. An instinct, almost.)

It’s even easy to talk about _them_. Beca chalks it up to holiday magic. New Year’s Eve and all that. “We were a little dumb, weren’t we?” Beca asks, watching Chloe’s face carefully.

Chloe’s lips twitch into a half-smile. “A little. I wanted us to work, but I was scared.”

“Me too,” Beca admits quietly. She clears her throat to take away from some of the sting in her eyes. “I hated breaking up.”

“I know. Me too.”

That’s...telling. Well, now Beca _has_ to know; the curiosity is killing her. “So...what now?”

Chloe turns so her body is facing Beca fully on the loveseat. Her posture is open and welcoming and her smile is sincere. It makes Beca indescribably happy to see Chloe like this, relaxed and happy. She hopes that she has _something_ to do with that. “I think,” Chloe begins slowly, reaching out to put a hand on Beca’s leg. “That you look really beautiful. And that I’ve missed you a lot.”

Beca moves her hand to rest on top of Chloe’s without breaking eye contact. “Friends?” she asks, raising an eyebrow for good measure. She hopes to God that Chloe disagrees.

“I have a better idea.” _Than what?_ Beca wonders frantically. _Than friends?_ “Wanna get out of here?”

Beca decides to go with it. “Thought you’d never ask,” she attempts to flirt.

Chloe grins. “I knew _you’d_ never ask.”

And—okay. That’s fair.

* * * * *

Beca’s back collides harshly with the wall in the dimly hallway outside Jake’s apartment. She groans, partly in pain and partly in surprised arousal. The sound cuts off as Chloe’s mouth covers hers expertly, both of them desperate to seek the upper hand in the brief power play. Beca pulls at Chloe’s hair to which Chloe responds by pressing her fingers roughly into Beca’s back under her sweater.

“Wait,” Beca says breathlessly. “We should—”

Chloe leans back, eyes alight with concern. “Sorry, I just thought…”

“No, you thought, um, correct...ly. You thought correctly.” Chloe blinks at her with impossibly blue eyes. “Y’know what? I forgot why I stopped you.”

Gone are the doe eyes. Chloe’s smile is downright sinful as she pulls Beca back towards her for another kiss by the lapels of her coat. Beca nearly slumps back at the force of the kiss, all-too-willing to submit to Chloe’s force. It was something that she got to experience very briefly while dating Chloe—Chloe’s precision and expertise at kissing her until she was a useless pile of mush in Chloe’s arms.

Following Chloe’s lead, Beca tilts her head. The action spurs her into adding her tongue into the mix soon enough, Beca finds how easy it is to slide her tongue briefly against Chloe’s with each motion between them. Chloe’s hands grip at her back tightly, sliding slow down to frame her hips. With a firm grasp, Chloe pulls her closer and they’re kissing still, just more passionately than before.

Beca can feel it _everywhere_. The kiss sends shockwaves all the way down to her toes and back up again, this time lingering somewhere low in her belly. It spreads from there, slowly, finally manifesting in a persistent ache in her cunt. The ache causes her hips to rock forwards into Chloe, seeking more contact immediately.

In their time apart, Beca has kissed her fair share of people. Made out with fewer. Slept with even less. And at times, gone further with people than she ever did with Chloe Beale during their short, brief attempt at a relationship. But _nothing_ —nobody—compares to this moment here, reconnecting with Chloe and shoving her tongue down Chloe’s throat like it’s something they perfected over years of being together.

She has _missed_ this.

She has missed _Chloe._

Somehow Chloe, in their couple minutes of kissing, has made her feel more than she has ever felt from a single person in her spotted history. Chloe’s hand shifts to grip her lower back, dangerously close to her ass and suddenly Beca feels the desperate urge to take off her clothes and let Chloe have her way with her right there in her friend’s charming little apartment.

She tears her mouth away, gazing up at Chloe with heavily-lidded eyes. She warms even further at the look Chloe fixes on her: it is possessive and predatory, sprinkled with the slightest hint of care.

“Fuck,” Beca whispers, putting her hands on Chloe’s shoulders to push her back slightly, but not entirely pushing her away. Beca realizes that they are still standing in the darkened hallway while a New Year’s Eve party rages on just past the door they exited.

“I…more words, please,” Chloe urges softly. “We…we can just forget about this, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to forget.” It’s simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing Beca has said all year.

It’s the right thing to say, Beca knows this.

Chloe’s shoulders slump in relief, releasing some tension. “Neither do I. What do you want to do?”

Beca decides then and there that she doesn’t want to live her life with regrets. “I want you.”

* * * * *

By the time they make it back to Beca’s apartment (“Closer,” Beca mumbles against Chloe’s mouth in an attempt to convince her. It works because Beca is awesome at persuasion), Beca thinks she might crawl out right out of her own skin. Chloe pushes her back against the couch (“Closer,” Chloe mumbles, and okay, maybe Chloe is awesome at persuasion too) and Beca forgets her own name for a few good minutes as things heat up between them.

Beca whimpers, pressing Chloe’s head tighter against her neck. Chloe’s lips are soft and pliant against her skin, both of their breathing picking up the longer their bodies remain pressed together and horizontal on Beca’s couch.

“Tell me,” Chloe says softly, after she lifts her head from Beca’s neck. “Have you thought about this?”

Beca can’t lie, really. And she’s completely whipped and at Chloe’s mercy as usual, so—”Yeah. Yes. I have” are the words that tumble out of her mouth in quick succession. “I missed you.” That comes out a bit softer, but still as truthful as the first statement.

Chloe softens, propping herself up so she hovers above Beca comfortably, their legs still intertwined snugly. “I missed you too.”

Beca licks her lips, still wet and swollen from Chloe’s persistent kisses, and runs her hands up Chloe’s arms, stopping to rest upon Chloe’s shoulders. “Kiss me again,” she requests, bolder than she actually feels.

Chloe smirks, right out of Beca’s playbook. “You kiss me.”

Beca obliges, pulling Chloe down for a sweet, passionate kiss once more. She wants to keep doing this for the rest of the night—the rest of their lives, even. It’s what she had been missing all this time, the security and warmth of having Chloe’s body draped over hers. Chloe sighs softly against the kiss, hand coming up to cup Beca’s jaw delicately as she continues the gentle probing of her tongue until eventually Beca accepts her tongue into her mouth. She stretches, arching into Chloe’s touch. Though their kisses remain slow and steady, the passion and lust builds within Beca until it courses through her with each pump of blood through her veins.

It is hot—so incredibly hot—and stifling, the way Beca feels like her clothes restrain her. She wants so much to get out of them (and to get Chloe out of hers) so she can feel the exact precise warmth of Chloe’s palm against her skin. With how firmly Chloe holds her, she wants to feel that on her skin. She just doesn’t know how to express it, too focused on the way Chloe’s tongue sweeps against her own and the way her lips press against Beca’s.

“I...wait…” Beca gasps as Chloe nips at her lower lip sharply, tugging it between her teeth. “Chlo...wait.”

“I’ve waited,” Chloe murmurs with a tinge of impatience in her voice. She sits up suddenly, making Beca mourn the loss of her warmth. Perched atop Beca’s lap, Chloe shakes out her hair a little, reaching behind her to begin unzipping the back of dress. Beca watches with wide eyes as Chloe slips the sleeves over her shoulders and down her arms part-way. Chloe catches the expression on Beca’s face and tugs her lip between her teeth, her gaze changing into one of nervousness. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want to—”

Beca sits up hastily, putting her hands on Chloe’s bare shoulders. She falters, the moment her hands touch Chloe’s skin, marvelling at the warmth and softnes. “No,” she promises. “No, I want to...um.” She flushes, marvelling at her inability to even say the words. “I think we should...move to my room. If you want. No pressure, like ever. But...bed,” she finishes lamely, slightly out of breath just from the sight of Chloe’s exposed shoulders.

Disgusting. Chloe makes her feel disgustingly soft.

Chloe brightens like Beca just informed her she won a prize. “I would love that.” She stands, moving with grace and confidence that Beca can only hope to achieve one day. As she stands, she sheds her dress mindlessly, letting it pool to the floor by Beca’s couch. Beca stares shamelessly eyes trailing up and down Chloe’s body, entirely on display.

 _For you_ , the little voice in her head says. _It’s all for you._

Out loud, Chloe—always in tune with Beca’s thoughts, sometimes to Beca’s own detriment—exhales a little shakily and reaches out to pull Beca up from the couch. Beca stands, immediately colliding into Chloe’s body. Both of them inhale sharply at the press of Beca’s hands against Chloe’s lower back with the knowledge that there is seemingly endless amounts of skin to explore beneath Beca’s hands. “For you,” Chloe murmurs delicately, like she is sharing a secret with Beca. She reaches around to hold Beca’s wrists, lifting her hands up ever so slightly, directing her hands towards the clasp on her strapless bra. “Please,” Chloe continues, a little quieter.

Beca nods, expelling a puff of breath against Chloe’s chin, lifting trembling hands to the clasp resting on Chloe’s back. “I want you,” Beca acknowledges, speaking aloud the words that had plagued her over the past few years apart from Chloe Beale. It is undeniably true, how much she wants Chloe.

How much she needs her in her life.

* * * * *

Their tumble into Beca’s bed is quick and with minimal fumbling. They are somewhat familiar with each others’ bodies already, so that eases some of the burden from having to learn everything all over again.

Beca rubs the pad of her thumb over Chloe’s clit, marveling at the strangled groan it elicits from Chloe’s throat. She does it again, just to feel Chloe squirm against her. It sends a thrill through Beca, like the sweetest heat that rushes through her all at once, knowing that she can do this—that Chloe is laid out on her bed, spread out because she is at Beca’s mercy for the time being.

 _For you_ , the mantra in her head repeats over and over, like a possessive bell tolling away, beckoning Beca home.

To Chloe.

For Chloe.

Beca shifts, fingers slipping through indescribable wetness. Chloe’s fingers do the same, navigating between the tangle of their bodies—arms and hands and legs everywhere—so she can press her fingers through the folds of Beca’s cunt, both of them throbbing with need. “Together,” Chloe grunts out, her voice hoarse from misuse. _The moaning_ , Beca thinks proudly.

The alcohol has long ebbed away from Beca’s system; long gone is the measly drink that she had earlier in the evening. Nothing compares to the sensation of Chloe’s fingers slipping inside her for the first time. Beca wonders why they never did this before. It simply makes no sense, especially feeling how perfectly Chloe’s fingers fit inside her, filling her and soothing all the aches and all the heat ravaging her body.

But—

Nothing compares to how Beca’s fingers feel inside _Chloe._ “Fuck,” Beca whispers, lifting her hips while attempting to figure out how to best pleasure Chloe. The dual sensation of Chloe’s fingers inside her and her own fingers wrapped up in the hottest slick wetness she has ever felt the pleasure of feeling—it’s almost all too much at once. “Oh, _fuck_ , Chlo—” Chloe’s fingers cut her off with a firm thrust, then another, setting up a rhythm that settles in Beca’s bones.

Chloe shifts, dislodging Beca from inside her all at once. The sensation of cool air hitting her wet fingers makes Beca startle from her lust-induced haze and she lifts up on her elbows to protest weakly. “Wait,” Chloe promises lowly. Her voice very nearly crackles with the sheer amount of desire dripping from it. “Baby, wait. I just—I need to taste you.”

Beca barely has time to process _that_ before she fully takes in the sight of Chloe before her. The Chloe sitting before her, between her spread legs, is a far cry from the Chloe Beca saw at the beginning of their night. Gone is the delicate clip in Chloe’s hair, gone is the pretty dress. Before her, Chloe looks thoroughly ravaged. Her hair is tangled and messy after being at the mercy of Beca’s hands for most of the past hour or so. Her face is flushed, visible even in the dim lighting and her neck bears the remnants of Beca’s mouth against her skin. Beca’s teeth.

But none of that matters, not really. Not when Beca’s body cries out for relief, like an insatiable hunger. “ _Chloe_ , why—why did you—” Beca is in a daze; she is confused and desperate as the shock of being turned on beyond belief rushes through her like lightning. Equally quick: the disappointment and longing and disbelief that she no longer has Chloe’s fingers inside her and she attempts to put into action her need to pull Chloe back to her. “Chloe,” she whines once more when Chloe pushes her hands down. “ _Please_.”

Chloe groans softly at her plea, scooting down the bed so she can begin kissing and nipping at the crease of Beca’s thigh. Beca is hardly embarrassed at how wet she is that Chloe has a plentiful area to lick from. The sensation of Chloe’s tongue swiping broadly and slowly along her skin makes her shudder and she tenses, her cunt clenching—aching—around nothing.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chloe murmurs against her skin. A swipe of her tongue. A nip. The graze of her teeth. “So beautiful like this for me,” she whispers, finally licking right through Beca’s center. Beca grunts, hand flying to Chloe’s head at the feeling. Chloe’s tongue swipes through her again, this time slow enough to force her hips upward just to prolong the contact.

“That...feels so good,” Beca moans out, her words slow and staggered.

Chloe says nothing, intent on pleasuring Beca with her mouth. Somewhere, somehow, Beca is sure that the minutes tick by, slowly bringing them into the new year, but all Beca feels is the press of Chloe’s face between her legs and the soft sounds from Chloe’s mouth against her skin. It is so much to take in at once. Beca cries out, her voice unnaturally high and needy as pure desire crashes through her. Wave after wave, she reaches out until she tangles her fingers in Chloe’s hair, just to have something to hold on to as Chloe relentlessly continues eating her out.

There is a brief moment of confusion while Chloe reaches out blindly with her hand to grab Beca’s hand. The moment their fingers tangle together, Chloe’s mouth still between her legs, two things happen: first, Chloe’s lips wrap around her clit and she sucks _hard_ causing Beca’s hips to jolt up; second, the firm way Chloe grips her hand and the natural way their fingers tangle together makes something settle in place in Beca’s chest...right in her heart. It is like a puzzle clicking into place, _finally_ after spending endless time searching for the elusive, last piece.

It fits.

They _fit_.

There is a third thing that happens soon after, once the pressure explodes through Beca uncontrollably. She screams, crying out Chloe’s name and tightening her grip on Chloe. Chloe’s tongue flicks through her folds, pushing into her greedily as she comes, both of them taking equal pleasure in Beca’s coming apart.

Beca slumps, feeling every last wall come crashing down. Chloe lets go of her hand to press her hips down as she gently coaxes Beca down from the high with soft, gentle licks.

It’s overwhelming. All of it. Chloe, her life, that fucking orgasm. Chloe, again.

“Hey,” Chloe says softly when Beca has yet to say anything. She has moved up Beca’s body, now lying beside Beca, hand curled over her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay, Bec?”

The gentle affection and tenderness in Chloe’s voice makes Beca turn her head to face her lover (her ex-girlfriend, ex-almost, ex-something, maybe not an ex at all). She searches Chloe’s eyes, unsure of what she’s looking for exactly.

“What are you thinking?” Chloe asks, shifting against Beca. Beca is made aware of the distinct wetness streaked across Chloe’s own thighs as she moves. The way she presses against Beca is intimate and telling, but the concern in her eyes overrides it all.

It makes Beca fall even more for her.

“We fit,” Beca rasps, marvelling at the natural way their bodies curl into each other, even as she lies there spent and exhausted after one measly (not-measly at all) orgasm.

Chloe’s brow furrows. “We…”

Beca shakes her head, cutting her off with a kiss. “I don’t want to stop,” she mumbles between kisses, cupping Chloe’s cheeks. She moves so her body is half-lying on top of Chloe’s. “You didn’t come.”

Beca doesn’t intend for that to come out as dirty as she makes it sound, but her voice is already hoarse from screaming and Chloe’s mouth still kind of tastes like her, so she can’t be held accountable for any residual seduction. Chloe reacts visibly to that, shivering against Beca. “What are you going to do about it?”

Beca presses a deep, slow kiss against Chloe’s lips while her hand skims down the plane of Chloe’s abs, down past her hips and pubic bone, and finally pushing between Chloe’s legs where she had been previously. Chloe is so clearly worked up that it doesn’t take much for Beca’s fingers to literally slip down past Chloe’s wet clit to her even wetter core. It is even easier to gently press two fingers inside Chloe, the sensation of which makes them both groan.

“Fast,” Chloe grunts out, hips lifting to push Beca’s fingers deeper. The wanton way Chloe clenches around her fingers results in a telling ache in Beca’s cunt, desperate to come again. Her fingers begin working in and out of Chloe, slowly at first, then building up speed exponentially. Chloe moans loudly, clutching hard at the back of Beca’s head. Beca desperately tries to focus on pleasuring Chloe, but her mind is barely working. It spins, telling her everything that she can do with Chloe with her hands, her mouth, her hands again—the possibilities feel endless.

_You have time._

She fucks Chloe with two fingers, then three, going for efficiency and speed all at once. Chloe nearly screams as she comes apart around Beca’s fingers, tensing up beneath Beca and locking her thighs around Beca’s hand nearly painfully. Beca wiggles her fingers, wondering if she can press even deeper. The action makes Chloe squeak and arch into Beca desperately as she writhes, coming down from her orgasm with no small measure of force. Beca feels mildly victorious at the sight and sensation (all of which she can feel dripping all over her hand) and she props herself up above Chloe, bracing against her bed. She stares in wonder at the blissed out expression on Chloe’s face and waits patiently until Chloe’s eyes flutter open so she can smirk down at her.

“You’re so damn smug,” Chloe mutters.

“Good to know I can still do that to you.”

Chloe groans, mostly in exasperation. “We didn’t do this nearly enough while we were together.”

Beca bites her lip, forgetting her lingering arousal for a moment. She doesn’t like the past-tense usage of how _together_ they were.

She wants Chloe to stay tonight. And future nights. All nights. But like, metaphorically because moving in together can be a separate conversation. Beca kind of hates her brain.

“You look way too freaked out for somebody who just had an orgasm.” Chloe reaches for her. “And probably will have _way_ more before the night ends.”

Beca envies how confidently Chloe carries herself. She opts for some of that confidence. “We fit together,” she says, recalling what she had said not too long ago.

“We do,” Chloe replies slowly, though interest crosses her face. “We fit,” she repeats. She draws closer to Beca, pulling Beca’s head to her shoulder. “I like knowing that we’ll be okay, you know? It’s not...just you.”

Beca wonders when she became this sappy, post-sex romantic, but the words tumble out of her regardless. “I want us to be a thing again,” she rushes to say, but her words are a little muffled by the skin of Chloe’s shoulder. She hides her face again, embarrassed. _This is the most right thing I’ve felt all year. In the past few years. Since we broke up._ “We shouldn’t have broken up.”

“I...also like knowing that we can find our way back together,” Chloe whispers. Her breath is warm and gentle against Beca's skin.

Of _course_ Chloe knows exactly what to say. “Don’t leave,” Beca requests because it feels like that’s all she can manage right then, in the dark of Beca’s lonely apartment.

Whether she means in an hour, tomorrow morning, or next week, neither of them bother to clarify. Instead, Chloe’s hand combs through her hair a few times before she is tilting Beca’s head back and pressing a deep kiss against her mouth. “I won’t,” she promises in a voice sweeter than any song Beca has heard in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [here](http://beca-mitchell.tumblr.com/)! :D Here's to next year. I'm so proud of you for everything you've all accomplished this year.


End file.
